Where Dreams Books 1-3

by M. L. Buchman

  A particularly fine sloop cruised along the waterfront. That got them onto one of Hogan’s favorite subjects, sailboats.

  “You’re a sailor? Shit! How am I supposed to despise you if you’re a sailor?” Russell’s protest was vehement enough to turn heads of the first tourists of the morning, also leaning against the cold metal rail to watch the world go by.

  “Life is tough, isn’t it?”

  “Got a boat?”

  “Did,” Vera had hated sailing, so he’d finally let it go. Maybe it was time to look for a new boat. “Just a little cruiser, a Tartan 34. Miss her on days like this. Clear, good breeze.”

  Russell was just nodding in sympathy. A non-sailor would make some remark about a thirty-four foot boat not being small. A beginner would be impressed by the Tartan, she’d been a very classy boat. But someone who sailed bigger boats would simply understand. You could go deep sea in a thirty-four if you didn’t mind getting slapped around a bit. But what she was made for was just knocking around places like the Mediterranean and Puget Sound, maybe up the Inside Passage to Alaska, something he’d always meant to do, but hadn’t.

  “You?”

  “Yeah. Honey of a boat out at Shilshole Marina. She’s a one-of-a-kind fifty-footer. Full keel, just ten-foot-six on the beam.”

  “Fast.” Hogan remarked. A proof that he knew his boats, a compliment to Russell for choosing a boat that was about the sailing more than the comfort, and no comment on the length that showed he knew more than simply the numbers about boats. Whatever her condition, the speed would be the most notable factor in a craft that size.

  Russell’s phone beeped. He answered.

  “Yeah, down at the park rail.” He glanced over at Hogan. “How’s your coffee?”

  Hogan shook it to show that it was long gone empty, then he chucked it in a nearby can.

  Russell spoke once more into the phone, “Bring an extra.” Then he hung up.

  They continued talking about boats they had each admired.

  # # #

  “Hey, Angelo. Give me my coffee.”

  Hogan turned to face the new arrival. This would be Maria’s son and he was very interested in meeting him.

  Where Russell was several inches taller than Hogan, Angelo was a couple inches shorter, though almost as broad-shouldered. He wore a white chef’s coat open at the throat, apparently glad for the cold air after the kitchen’s heat. He had those dark Italian good looks that made all women swoon. He was the male version of his mother’s intense beauty. No doubting their relationship. He wondered if there was any of the father in Angelo other than his build. Looking at the two men together, Hogan wondered how Maria had survived raising them.

  “Angelo, Hogan. Hogan, Angelo.”

  They shook hands then Angelo handed over a fresh coffee.

  “Where’s my cornetto?” Russell demanded.

  “Dude, Mama sold out half an hour ago. You gotta be quicker than that.”

  “Shit!” Russell cursed.

  Hogan decided to salt the wound. “It was crazy good. Some ginger-chocolate-strawberry mix that shouldn’t have worked but was amazing.”

  Russell groaned and knocked back a big swallow of coffee then was gasping out great clouds of steam into the chill air as he cursed, then sipped again more cautiously.

  “So, you like my mama’s cooking? I like you already, Hogan.”

  Russell glanced at Hogan then shot him a wicked grin before facing Angelo. “He likes a lot more than her cooking, buddy boy.”

  “Huh? What?”

  Russell rolled his eyes at Angelo’s denseness. “Your mama’s got a new boyfriend, one Hogan Stanford.”

  Hogan wanted to be pissed at Russell for making the news a total bomb drop, but couldn’t quite work it out. First, he’d pretty much deserved that for ribbing Russell about the cornetto. And it was going to have to come out at some point, he’d just have preferred that it was Maria dealing with it rather than him. Assuming the relationship even went anywhere. Hoping it did.

  Angelo turned slowly, like a bull getting ready to charge, until he faced Hogan square on.

  “What was that?”

  “Yep!” Russell cheerfully overran anything Hogan might have said. “Pretty far along, too, is my guess looking at both of them. Don’t punch him, Angelo. Can’t be hurting those famous hands of yours.”

  “Punch him? I’m going to rip him limb from bloody limb.”

  “If you do,” Hogan figured he better say something quick. “You’ll end up dropping your coffee. Your mother makes pretty good coffee. It would be a real pity to waste it.”

  Angelo blinked, now like a bull faced with a red cape held by a rodeo clown that he had no idea what to do with.

  Russell snorted out a laugh. “I know. Lot to take in, isn’t it? She’s hot stuff, Angelo, we’ve known that since before we grew our first mustaches trying to piss her off. It was only a matter of time before some damn male on the planet wised up to what a dish she is.”

  Hogan could appreciate what Russell was doing. Having precipitated the whole upset for his own amusement, he was now redirecting Angelo’s attention away from Hogan. While he appreciated it, he would fight his own battles.

  “She’s an amazing woman, Mr. Parrano. She loves you very much you know.”

  Russell nodded, “She does, Angelo, though the lord alone knows why.”

  “You too actually, Russell.” His observation didn’t slow the man down a bit.

  “Makes her judgment pretty suspect, don’t you think? What about it, Hogan? You gonna trust a lady who loves the two of us like sons? Gotta be something wrong with her.”

  Angelo chucked his coffee aside, hauled back, and unleashed a huge punch.

  Hogan flinched even though it was Russell’s arm that took the brunt of the blow. Russell barely rocked back on his heels when it landed.

  Instead Russell laughed. Then, after making a smooth hand-off of his coffee cup to Hogan, he wrapped Angelo into a headlock and began rapping his knuckles on Angelo’s head, pretty hard.

  “Hello! Hello in there!” Russell was practically shouting in Angelo’s ear, then he winked at Hogan. “Just think, Angelo. Maybe they’ve already had sex.”

  Hogan shook his head in denial and Russell rolled his eyes sadly, as if marking Hogan a fool.

  Angelo struggled briefly once more before giving up. He mumbled, “Aw shit!” somewhere in the vicinity of Russell’s ribcage then finally relaxed.

  Hogan felt sorry for him. Russell let him up. He reached for his coffee, but Hogan handed it to Angelo.

  “Hey!” Russell protested.

  Angelo merely sneered at him and drank from the cup. “Best man wins.”

  “That would be me then,” Hogan said.

  Both men turned to look at him speculatively.

  “First, of the three of us,” he knew he was risking danger with this one. “I’m the only one who hasn’t been beaten on this morning.”

  “That we can fix,” Angelo offered, but there wasn’t much heat behind it.

  “Second, I figure I’m safe because I can’t see either of you explaining to Maria that you beat me up on our very first meeting.”

  “Damn, Angelo,” Russell stole back his coffee. “This guy’s smart. We’re gonna have to be sneaky.”

  “Third,” now he had both of their attentions. “I win because I’m the one who has a date tonight with Maria Amelia Avico Parrano.”

  Russell grinned, “Got us there, my short Italian friend, doesn’t he?”

  Angelo groaned.

  Chapter 9

  “Hogan?” Maria looked aghast at the three men entering the restaurant’s back door. She’d dreaded this moment, having no idea how she was going to tell Angelo about her boyfriend. Or whatever she was going to call Hogan.

  She started to feel relief that it
had occurred without her, but decided they wouldn’t be laughing together if the two boys knew. Maybe Hogan had somehow identified and befriended them both to make it easier. She had no idea what was going on.

  “Maria!” Hogan called out happily. Dropping a to-go cup into the garbage, he walked up to her. No, he swaggered, looking immensely male and pleased with himself. Just steps before he reached her station he winked at her broadly.

  Then he kissed her. Not a little kiss, but one that shifted her from bewildered to melting. She could feel his smile turn just a little wicked.

  “I told you, Angelo, and I told you,” she became vaguely aware of Russell’s teasing tone over the buzzing in her ears. “Parents have sex too. Lucky for us or we’d never have been born.”

  Angelo whimpered quietly.

  She pushed Hogan aside and saw that they had quite the audience. Russell had an arm draped over her son’s shoulders, perhaps holding him from charging at Hogan, perhaps merely keeping him upright. Graziella stood by the kitchen door and looked even more melty than she had this morning. Manuel, the sous chef, and Nora beside him, were grinning at their boss’ complete confusion.

  A couple of the other line cooks were applauding. Marko, the young dishwasher, was the only one apparently sharing Angelo’s state of shock. She was becoming a second mother to the teen and apparently Ms. Parrano with a boyfriend was more than he could imagine.

  Russell shook Angelo in a friendly fashion. “Maybe parents only have really bad sex, leaving all the good sex for us young studs.” Russell winked in Hogan’s direction.

  Hogan had slid a hand around her waist, and appeared far too pleased with himself.

  Maria grabbed a wooden spoon and whacked Hogan on top of the head.

  “Hey! What? Ow!”

  “You! You get out of my kitchen. You already mess up my food once this morning. Out! Out! Before you make me mess up even more.” She chased him to the back door.

  Then just before he ducked through to escape, she stopped him with a hand on his jacket. Two could play at this game.

  She pulled his head down into a kiss and let herself flow against him. He felt so good, it was impossible. But it was so very real at the same time.

  Then she scooted him out the door with a soft, “Shoo!” and a slap of her wooden spoon on his backside for good measure.

  Maria turned back, and squared her shoulders to face whatever the consequences were.

  Angelo came up and took both her hands. He squeezed them hard and looked her right in the eye.

  “Does he make you happy, Mama?”

  She shrugged. Happy was such a small word for how Hogan Stanford made her feel. “Yes, Angelo. He does so far.”

  He didn’t speak, but merely wrapped her in a fierce hug. Over his shoulder she could see Russell grinning at them.

  Maria tried not to cry, but she’d raised two such good boys that she couldn’t help herself.

  # # #

  “Tonight, I am cooking you a special dinner.”

  Maria’s apartment had been overflowing with wondrous smells when he arrived.

  Once she’d buzzed him through the locked door, it could have been a different world though he was just two blocks from the shelter. Seattle was like that. It was a small enough city that shelters backed onto art galleries and condos towered above seedy bars which were just two doors down from a good French restaurant in one direction and a narrow Pho noodle shop in the other.

  Her condo was on the seventh floor, well above the vibrant mix of the Pioneer Square evening. Even in the night he could see that she had a decent view over the viaduct to the Sound. When that came down in a year or so, it would be magnificent. The contractor had done a good job on the sound insulation, you couldn’t hear the roadway much at all.

  The furnishings were not fancy or complex, IKEA mostly. “They were Angelo’s,” Maria explained. The kitchen, however, was magnificent.

  A red sauce was simmering gently on the back burner and filled the apartment with layers of olfactory wonders. It was a heady blend of tomato and spice and possibility.

  They shared a glass of Barolo as he regaled her with tales of meeting Russell and Angelo. She set him to making tiny prosciutto bruschetta dressed with olive oil and fresh mozzarella. She formed meatballs with practiced, delicate gestures, and slid them into the sauce to cook.

  He fed her a bruschetta and she kissed his fingers. He held a glass of wine for her to sip as she worked on the salad. A drop of wine caught at the corner of her lips and he kissed it away.

  Her eyes were so dark when they looked up at him. Worlds were revealed there. Worlds of desire, and of hope.

  Without a word, he moved to the stove and turned off the burner.

  She washed her hands and was toweling them dry when he drove his fingers into her hair and kissed her. That soft sigh as her lips parted against his absolutely slayed him.

  He went to lead her to the bedroom, though he didn’t know which door to head for.

  She undid the knot on her apron, and pulled it off over her head.

  For the brief moment that gesture forced their lips apart, she whispered, “We’ll always have the kitchen floor.”

  He lay her down on the smooth, polished oak. And then feasted upon her.

  # # #

  Spaghetti and Italian meatballs, while sitting naked on the kitchen floor. Spumoni ice cream sandwiches in a hot shower, dripping cherry, pistachio, and chocolate flavors faster than they could eat them. They eventually had made love in the bed as well before collapsing into sleep.

  Hogan rarely slept more than five hours. He awoke seven hours later when Maria’s alarm went off. Thankfully, being a wise woman, she’d set it a little earlier than she really needed.

  Chapter 10

  Hogan hated missing Maria’s breakfasts, but shifting his schedule at the shelter was worth it. Eric let him move to morning and lunch prep, with Monday and Tuesdays off so that his schedule matched Maria’s. With the quality of the additional foodstuffs that arrived from Angelo’s restaurant, only a day or two old, he could have asked for anything and Eric would have given it to him.

  The shelter was being more fun as well. Richie was as weird as ever, but Hogan stopped being his primary target. He now shared that particular gift more equally with the other kitchen volunteers. Eric teased about making Hogan an honorary KP-private, after all, only on Army Kitchen Patrol did anyone have to peel so many potatoes.

  Hogan knew the place hadn’t changed, so it must be him. He supposed it made sense, because he certainly didn’t recognize the Hogan Stanford of mere weeks ago whose favorite place was sitting quietly at his living room window. It was as if the Seattle he’d grown up in and always loved had come back to life for him.

  Maria knew surprisingly little of Seattle, having only lived here for six months and spending most of that in her son’s restaurant. And she certainly hadn’t been here for a Christmas, so he led her to every ridiculous touristy thing to do. Seattle at Christmas was a wonderful city, even if there was a lack of snow except for one fine-dusted evening.

  They stood in the cold rain for half an hour to ride on the Christmas carousel that was set up on the Westlake Center mall each winter. Two grownups and hundreds of little kids with harried-looking parents in tow. The carousel was a spectacle of lights and joy. He rode a carved blue charger, and Maria beside him on a splendid lavender mare. They both giggled like they were six again.

  He took her on quiet drives through neighborhoods known for their Christmas lights. He saved the “Garden d’Lights” show at the Bellevue Botanical Garden for an especially clear night with a half moon shining high in the sky. They had nearly frozen on the cold, clear night, but the stars had sparkled and the lights had glittered off her hair until he was quite assured that she was magical, no matter how often she denied it.

  She had tickled Santa’s
beard at Macy’s in the window below what every Seattleite worth his salt still called the Bon Star. It was a great white star that had shown down Third Avenue every December for decades despite the store’s name change.

  They rode the ferry from the Seattle waterfront over to Bainbridge Island. He took her to the Streamliner Diner, a 1950s classic of chrome, Formica, and leatherette bench seats. Their return trip through the mid-winter darkness had shown the glorious display of the Seattle skyline from the twin sports stadiums in the south to the Space Needle that still commanded the northern end of downtown.

  There was one special thing that Hogan wanted to share with her, but for that he’d need a little help.

  # # #

  “Maria!” She turned from studying the dark waters of Elliot Bay at the call. Cassidy, Jo, and Perrin were trooping down the pier toward her. Hugs and surprise were shared all around.

  “What are you all doing here?”

  “We were hoping you knew. Russell was being awfully mysterious.”

  Maria shook her head, “Hogan too. He just said to meet him here.”

  “Hogan!” Perrin practically crowed with delight. “I told you that’s why we hadn’t seen her in so long. It’s not that she decided we were too much trouble. So tell me. Tell me! Is he really wonderful? Was your first time on the Ferris wheel?”

  The Seattle Great Wheel shone just a few piers to the south of where they stood.

  “No, it wasn’t on the Ferris wheel.”

  “So…” Perrin drew it out so dramatically that the other girls giggled, despite being overly serious women turning thirty. Perrin tipped her head ever so slightly saying that this would be a great opportunity to tease the others.

  “The kitchen floor at my condo.”

  “Yes!” Perrin did a fist pump and danced a bit about the pier. Her white hair shining where it peeked out beneath a crazy knit hat. It was gray and covered with a line of what looked like tiny blue British police boxes.